


Let Me Fill You Up, Let Me Swallow Your Cries

by HollowRose



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, F/M, Infidelity, John being John, M/M, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Slow Burn, So much angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 15:07:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15173330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowRose/pseuds/HollowRose
Summary: Sherlock never imagined himself getting into a relationship, let along a relationship with a married man.That was before he met John Watson.





	Let Me Fill You Up, Let Me Swallow Your Cries

Sherlock can barely fit his key into the lock of his flat on Montague Street he’s giggling so hard, his hands shaking in a wondrously way he hasn’t experienced since he was a child. Behind him, Dr. Watson - no _John_ , as he’s been told to call him - is also laughing.

“Do you do this often, help your ex-clients solve cases and puzzles?” John says in between chuckles. His laugh is a low handsome sound, and hearing it makes Sherlock’s stomach flutter. 

Once inside, Sherlock turns to watch the man's tanned, rugged face as he enters and walks through the tiny space. After a few painfully quiet moments Sherlock can't wait. "Do, you-” He swallows down his nerves, watches John even more intently for any sign, good or bad, “- like it?”

His breath catches. It's ridiculous how much he suddenly cares, but it matters very much what this man will think, and right now Sherlock has never in his entire life cared more for one person’s opinion, not his boss - Irene- not the richest customer he’s ever had, not even his parents.

The doctor hums and nods, “Well, I’m no connoisseur of decorating, like you,” he says the last bit with a half smirk. “It’’s small, that’s for certain. Reminds me of my place when I was still in med school. But well fuck, my place was all dirty sheets and dirty dishes, the walls if they had a color, which I can’t even remember, would have been brown or grey. But this it… Yeah, this is beautiful.”

Sherlock’s heart takes flight right then and there. Because John Watson looks and sound completely truthful and it's more than Sherlock deserves, the . “It’s cozy, but that cozy that actually makes a small place seem big, you know? when I but you’ve decorated it beautifully, cozy, but in a way that makes it look bigger I suppose.”

 To hide a his pinking cheeks Sherlock turns quickly to make them tea. The spend the next twenty or so minutes chatting about Sherlock's occasional help on cases he's allowed to be a part of.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but why does a posh boy like you enjoy it?" John asks.

"I like seeing the world in all it's dimensions...I like the danger of it as well." 

"Danger - Oh?" John's voice drops, a look of intense amusement etched on the deep lines of his face, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "So, it's not just working out puzzles from old case files, then?" 

"Oh, no. I've gotten to go to two crime scenes firsthand. One of them lead to us needing to trail the suspect for ten minutes by foot."

The doctor nods, but his eyes remain narrowed. "Death isn't to be taken lightly." He says with a serious gruffness, dropping even lower when he adds, "and nor is your safety." The words aren't shallow. John's heavy brow indicates he _means_ what he says, and in a voice that brooks no argument no less. Sherlock goes wide eyed. It's probably because his safety has never been much on anyone's mind. 

After a long pause John indicates towards the oil stain on his dark green plaid shirt. "Say, do you mind if I borrow a shirt?"

In his very small bedroom, Sherlock looks through his clothes. They're obviously too small for John's larger frame. In the quick inspection, Sherlock can't help biting his lip admiring the way John's muscles flex even through the thick material of his shirt.

John, however, seems less amused. "Fuck, do you always dress like a tart? Don't you have any over-sized shirts at all, even a t-shirt will do."

Sherlock remembers when a high school ex came over for a visit a month ago. He bends to reach in a chest he keeps at the back of his closet. Pulling out a large

Sherlock very much wants to kiss him, get lost in those dark orbs. 

A long minute passes with those dark navy eyes on the man practically devouring Sherlock on the spot. Suddenly he's being spun around and pinned to the wall by the broader man.

"Christ, the things you do to me Sherlock," John growls out, his voice a scratchy rumble. "What are you doing to me?" He roars as if a wild beast in pain. "Do you have any idea how much I want to fuck you?" He rumbles out as he grabs the globes of Sherlock's ass with two broad hands and squeezes - _Ah!_ \- Sherlock cries out at the assault - squeezing, kneading, _digging_ his strong thick fingers into the crack of Sherlock's plump ass. There's some unleashed beast, a hunger Sherlock now sees before him. 

"Do you even know how often I fuck Mary imagining it was you? Plunging my huge dick inside her hole, wishing it was your hole, I want to spread you out and fucking you hard, I want to hurt you, with my fingers, teeth, but mostly my cock. God. I want to fuck you enough you'll hurt for months. I'm going to ruin you Sherlock."

 


End file.
